Once upon a time, there was a little boy called J. He would travel the world and the seven seas looking for fun. Some would use him, while others abuse him. He would wallow in misery and sorrow but always thought to himself that sweet dreams are made from these experiences. One day his prince will come and sweep him off his feet and they would ride off into the sunset in the prince's Ferrari.
That was twenty years ago and now the little boy is not so little. Yet he still behaves like his shoe size and cycle through use and abuse, Touch n Go etc etc. You know how it goes...
Alienating friends one by one became his professional job. Soon his castle crumbled and he moved from a cardboard box to another. Both physically and mentally... Yet he presevered to look for that elusive thing called love...
If Mother Goose had his way - yes, Mother Goose has to be gay - then J would live happily ever after. But the world is a cruel place and you turn into a bitch. Or else you become the victim of some sad mascara streaked soap opera which in the end devours your soul as well as your wallet.
So J prowled the bars and the clubs on a weekend marathon which starts on a Friday night. Many have observed and noted how sad life is when you are in those shoes that J wears. Well, expired Bata shoes the wrong side of chic IS bad...
Well, so what of J? He still prowls the streets along with the sad desperados looking for L-O-V-E. For now he still have his youthful looks. But how will he compete with those younger, tighter 20-somethings or those ladened-walleted-Botox enhanced hotties? Not much. Especially when all he wants are Ebony Gods with a million and one requirements to fulfil.
The only thing that will happen tonight: sex, sex and maybe no sex. It is a cruel motherf*&%ing world after all. And there are more Js out there than we really know about...
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